


"Mi cama es su cama"

by redrobinfection (ChristmasRivers)



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Blood and Injury, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Injury, JayTim Week 2018, M/M, Major Character Injury, Pre-New 52, Sharing a Bed, Sick Character, Sickfic, Sleep Deprivation, Slow Burn, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-24
Updated: 2018-03-24
Packaged: 2019-04-07 09:43:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14078142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChristmasRivers/pseuds/redrobinfection
Summary: JayTim Week 2018 - “Bed Sharing” (Day 6)Tim and Jason aren’t friends. They’re barely allies at this point. But for whatever reason, they keep crashing each other’s apartments, lairs, and safehouses, all in search for a bed to crash in for a bit. It starts out simple - it’s just a safe place to catch a nap, a safe place to recover after an injury, a safe place to hang - but with each visit, it turns into something more - it’s a welcome place to hang, a comfortable place to recuperate, their safe haven in dire times. It might take awhile, but, slowly Jason and Tim turn into something more too.





	"Mi cama es su cama"

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, March is definitely one of the worst times of year for me, surpassed only by April, so, originally, I hadn’t planned on participating in this JayTim Week. But I couldn’t stay away from the “bed sharing” prompt, and thus this massive oneshot was born. I originally posted this work as six separate parts on tumblr, the first of which you can find [here](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/172055051831/mi-cama-es-su-cama). I particularly enjoyed writing and sharing this spur-of-the-moment monster and I hope you enjoy reading just as much!

Tim stuttered to a halt in the doorway. “Get out of my bed!” he hissed at the half-dressed vigilante snugging, stomach down, into the blankets of _his_ bed.

Jason Todd raised his head groggily and stared for a long moment before croaking,“Oh, hey, r'placement. Wha’s shakin’?”

“Get out of my bed. I need to sleep.”

Todd winced at the volume, but levered himself up into a sitting position. “Jeeeez…Testy, testy, aren’t we?” He picked himself up on his hands and crab walked to one side of the bed, then flopped over onto his back. “There,” he mumbled to the ceiling, “plenty of room for you, too.”

“No. Get out,” Tim commanded firmly, too done with everything at the moment to worry if his tone might offend or rile his predecessor. He’d already be stabbed enough times by Todd, what was one more time?

The man groaned but didn’t move. Tim stripped off of his cape and threw it carelessly into the closet along with his bandolier and belt. “I haven’t slept in sixty hours and I want my bed. Leave.”

Todd raised his head and gave him an appraising look. Whatever he saw must have swayed him, because, amazingly, he sat up and started fishing around on the floor for his boots. A distant part of Tim was grateful that the man had, at the very least, taken off the dirtier parts of this armor before crashing on the bed in Tim’s favorite safehouse.

“Wow, okay. Gimme one sec,” Todd replied. He blinked rapidly, then spun around and reached onto the floor near the nightstand to grab his jacket.

Tim turned to throw his gauntlets and boots into the closet, too, and when he turned back, Todd was standing and pulling on the last of his gear. The blood red domino was on, but his hood was tucked under his arm.

“Well, at least I got a good nap in before you came back,” Todd commented with a sharp grin. He strode out the door, and made his way through the small apartment toward the windows facing the side alley. He’d left a bike down there, casual as can be, which was half of the reason Tim hadn’t come bursting into his own safehouse ready for a fight back when his wrist computer had first informed him that the security system had been disarmed; Todd wouldn’t exactly announce his presence if he meant to ambush Tim, would he? 

The other half of that reason was that Tim was too tired to care either way.

He followed Todd into the side room, ready to close up and re-arm the system as soon as he left. He halted in the doorway when the older man paused by the windows. Tim blinked, only closing his eyes for a second, but when they opened again, his whole world swayed, and somehow Todd had already thrown open the window and replaced his hood. He was staring at Tim.

“Jeez, kid, you weren’t kidding. You look dead on your feet. I would know,” Hood teased in his gravely, electronically-modified voice. He paused halfway through the window and turned back. “Thanks for letting me crash here” - so in semi-antagonistic-vigilante-acquaintance terms, _‘thanks for not immediately coming back and attacking me when you got the alert that your safehouse had been breached’_ \- “and go get you some sleep. Looks like you need it, ‘baby bird’.”

Hood was gone before Tim could protest the new appellation. So instead he contented himself to grumbling over it as he shut and locked the window, rearmed the system, then stumbled off to bed.

“Really? First it’s ‘pretender’, then 'replacement’, now I’m a 'baby bird’?” Tim scrunched his nose in disgust for the new insult. He flopped face first onto his bed. He was still half dressed, but he was too tired to do anything about it right then. His last thoughts before he drifted off were of how he’d show Jason _flipping_ Todd what he thought of that new name, next chance he got, with another sucker punch to the man’s face. He didn’t care anymore what Todd would do in retaliation, he was so over this shit between them. So tired of it. So. Damn. Tired.

\---

Jason froze beside the light switch, then cursed loudly into the echoing space of his loft. The lump huddled under the blankets on his bed didn’t so much as shift at the noise. Jason drew one gun, pointed it toward the bed, stripped off his jacket, then balled it up and threw it at the hidden person.

“Okay, whichever little birdy decided to make a nest in my bed needs to get the fuck up and out. _Now_ ,” he announced in a booming voice. He fingered the safety, ready to shoot just in case he was wrong, but he didn’t think he would have to because he was pretty sure he knew _exactly_ who had snuck into his bed.

One way or another, it was probably one of the Bats. Jason hadn’t even known his loft had been compromised until he’d turned on the lights - whoever it was had disarmed the system without triggering any alerts and then fully rearmed it. Jason already had his suspicions over which of the little birdies had the tech know-how and the gumption to hack into one of his systems.

All his suspicions were confirmed as he quickly whipped the covers off the body in his bed. The person still hadn’t so much as made a sound, even after Jason had practically shouted over them, but removing the covers revealed a very familiar black cape wrapped tightly around a person curled into a ball with their back to him. Two similarly familiar boots stuck out from underneath the human armadillo. Jason was going to kill him for dragging his dirty-ass boots all over his freshly washed sheets.

“Wake up, Pretender, and get outta my bed!”

Nothing. Not even a groan. Jason lowered the gun and reassessed the situation. He reached out with one hand and gently shook what he believed to be a shoulder.

“Hey, Replacement? You in there? You alive? You better not be bleeding out onto my sheets under there or I’ll shoot ya.”

Finally, there was a groan from the younger man. Now that Jason had a hand on him, he could feel the tremors running through his tense body. He slowly stood and rounded the bed, looking to find a head in the pretzel the kid had made of himself. Jason lowered himself slowly onto the bed and gingerly peeled the cape away. He revealed the pale face of Timothy Drake, cowl down, eyes closed, and brows pinched. Jason reached for his shoulder once more and shook gently but persistently.

“Hey. Little baby robin, you awake? I need you to wake up an’ tell me what happened? You get fear-toxined? Injured?”

Drake groaned and cracked an eye open. “-n-not a -aby-ird,” he croaked unintelligibly.

“What was that? Speak up.”

“-’m not-not a b-babybird.”

Jason snorted softly. “Oh really? ‘Babybird’? As one word? I think that has a nice ring to it.” Drake moaned and shut his eyes tightly, curling in further on himself. Jason was just about to repeat his previous inquiries when he noticed a bluish tinge to Tim’s lips and together with the paleness, torpor, and intermittent shivering it all clicked.

He hastily stripped a glove off one hand, fought with Drake briefly for one of his hands, and stripped the glove off that hand as well. The young man’s nailbeds were also tinged blue and his skin was frigid.

“You had a run in with Freeze, didn’t you?” Jason asked. “I’d heard he was out and about again, but hadn’t seen him yet.”

“Y-yeah. Th-this place… closest.”

Jason sighed. “So he hit you with his freeze gun, you got all shivery, and then decided to come and roost here until you warmed up a bit? Why didn’t you call for daddy-bat’s or wingnut’s help, dumbass?”

“T-tech froze up. Batteries drain under s-s-sub-z-z-z-z-”

“Under sub-zero temperatures,” Jason finished for him, “Yeah, yeah, I know. I thought you had that shit better insulated, oh-great-tech-genius.”

“S-so did I.”

Jason continued complaining under his breath, but also continued stripping Drake out of his gear regardless - first the gauntlets, then the damn boots, then the cape. He was lucky he knew how to spot most of the traps and locks, but he’d need Drake’s help soon enough to get his belts and suit off; he didn’t know what kind of surprises might _not_ have frozen up with the comms and emergency beacons. Drake batted at his hands weakly when he reached to remove the cowl.

“What’re'yu doing? Leamme alone.”

“I gotta get this stuff offa 'ya, kid. You’re not sleeping off hypothermia in _my_ bed in your dirty, busted-up suit and boots,” Jason informed him drily. He pulled Drake upright, taking great care to be gentle, deftly disarmed the traps, and slid the cowl up and over his head. Drake squinted both eyes open and glared weakly at him.

“-S-s-s-s-s t-too cold.”

“You sound like a leaky hose.”

“Shhhhut up.”

“Of course it’s cold. It’s gonna stay cold until you help me strip you outta this stuff and bundle you up in some blankets,” Jason explained standing up and tugging the smaller man toward the edge of the bed. It was a struggle just to keep him sitting upright, to keep him from curling in on himself again, but Jason didn’t let up. “You help me get you outta your shit now and I’ll even throw in a few hot water bottles, whaddya say?”

Drake groaned, but together, slowly, they undid the locks and traps and stripped him down to his underclothes. As soon as the last bit of kevlar and leather left his skin, Drake seemed to lose all will to stay upright and conscious, so it was mostly up to Jason to pull back the covers and tuck the kid snugly into one side of his bed.

He made a quick detour to his dresser to grab a few more blankets and then to the kitchen area to fill up all three of his hot water bottles - he hadn’t been kidding about that - then stripped out of his own gear and returned to the bed. He made quick work of pulling off the comforter to arrange the water bottles around Drake, then covered him in three extra blankets before pulling the comforter back up and draping two more blankets on top. Satisfied with the nest he’d made for little Timmy, Jason rounded the other side of the bed, and carefully slid under the covers.

There was no way he was gonna strip naked and cuddle the kid just to warm him up again - that stupid cliche you read in stories or see in movies - but he wasn’t gonna give up his bed to the kid, either. It was queen-sized so there was plenty of room for both of them. Besides, he wasn’t so sure the kid had enough energy left to heat up the blankets, anyway, even with the hot water bottles to help. No point in tucking the kid in if he didn’t warm him enough to keep the hypothermia from killing him.

He reached out and felt the sheets around the kid - yep, still ice-cold - and then scooched closer with a put-upon sigh. His body heat would help, and if one or both of them inadvertently snuggled up to the other in the middle of the night, then so be it. Timmybird would just have to forgive him in the morning - _after_ he apologized to Jason for bringing his boots into the bed.

He stayed up a while yet thinking, but just as he was dropping off he wondered why he had bothered to help the kid instead of calling someone else to drag him away. In that semi-lucid state that happens just before you drop off to sleep, explanations such as not wanting the bats to find his loft, not feeling like dragging the kid out to them, and not wanting to risk killing the kid by moving him that far along into hypothermia floated in lazy circles inside his thoughts, his mind never settling on one reason or another.

Some distant part of Jason wondered when he had started caring enough for his replacement for the last reason to even occur to him.

The rest of him was too tired to care if he cared or not.

\---

Tim groaned and rolled his shoulders as he walked through the front door of the old theater he’d renovated into a home and personal Cave. He threw his Wayne Enterprises work bag down on the couch and made his way through the silent house, bypassing the fish tank with the secret switch that would take him down to his lair and turning, instead, toward the stairs up to his bedroom.

The last couple of nights of patrol had kept him out late and it had also been a long day at WE today - he could use a quick nap before patrol tonight. A couple hours, he reasoned, and then he’d get up, eat some dinner, chug some coffee and then get back out on the streets.

He froze in the doorway to his room. There, on the still-made bed, lounged a fully suited and hooded Red Hood, stretched out on his side, bathed in the dying golden light of the sunset streaming in through the window, head propped up on one hand.

Normally, Tim would be disturbed by the presence of a fully armed and masked vigilante lying on his bed as if waiting for him to paint him like one of those french girls, but knowing all about Jason’s trademark shock tactics, and his undeniable flair for the dramatic, this seemed relatively tame.

“Hello, Jason.”

“‘Sup, Babybird.”

Tim frowned and strode purposefully across the room to his walk-in closet. “I thought I told you not to call me that.” He shrugged off his blazer and reached into the closet for a hanger, never taking his eyes off the man. Hood didn’t budge an inch.

“You may ask, but I am not obliged to comply.”

“Which classic work did you steal that line from?”

Hood sat up and shrugged. “I dunno. Made it up.” Finally, he removed the hood to reveal his trademark smirk.

“Then, in that case, to what do I owe this unexpected visit?”

Jason’s smug expression never faltered. “I came to catch a nap before patrol. You owe me one after the last time.”

It had been months since Tim had crashed at Jason’s loft, barely lucid after being partially struck by and narrowly escaping Freeze’s freeze gun. Something about that incident must have changed things for Jason, because in the months since, tensions had, ironically, somewhat thawed between the two of them.

He stared down at Jason and sighed. “Funny, I had the same idea. Can you at least take off your boots before you settle in?”

“That’s funny coming from the guy who crawled into _my_ bed - clean sheets and all - in his dirty as fuck boots,” Jason bantered back, shrugging off his jacket then scooting to the edge of the bed to start unlacing his boots.

“I’ve already apologized for that five times now, so yeah, sorry, please take off your boots,” he reiterated. He scrubbed a hand over his face, thinking back to that night, or rather, the morning after.

Demanding an apology for the boots was how Jason had woken him up. As soon as Tim had shown signs of stirring, Jason had apparently grabbed the boots so that when he had opened his eyes, the first thing he saw were his own boots being waved inches in front of his nose. The shock had nearly given him a heart attack, and, in that shock, he had startled back, slamming his head into the headboard, nearly giving himself a concussion. Jason had laughed for five minutes straight, before eventually demanding the apology. Leave it to Jason Todd to care more about boots in his bed than the break-in itself.

“And the guns. No guns in the bed please,” Tim demanded, stripping off his dress pants.

“Sure thing, Timbo.”

He rolled his eyes. That nickname wasn’t much better than 'Babybird’, but at least it wasn’t 'Replacement’ or 'Pretender’, and it incorporated his given name, so he supposed that was progress.

They’d actually made a lot of progress in the past few months, much to his surprise. After that morning so many months ago, Tim had made his shaken apologies and thanks yous and tried to make a hasty retreat, but aside from scoffing at his claim that he didn’t remember perfectly disarming and re-arming the security system - he really didn’t, he could do that kind of stuff in his sleep - and repeatedly reminding him about the boots, Jason hadn’t seemed upset about any of it.

In fact, he hadn’t let Tim take off right away, instead keeping him there until he had been satisfied Tim wouldn’t kill himself on the return trip. He had made him drink some water, eat a power bar after he had held down the water, and then had offered to drive him across town, to the Bunker under WE, at the very least.

Jason’s argument had been that he couldn’t afford to get chilled so soon after coming back from hypothermia, otherwise he would undo all of Jason’s hard work saving his butt - Jason’s words, not his - but he had seen the assessing looks Jason had shot him as he had given him civilian clothes to throw on, had given him a extra jacket to bundle up in, and had escorted him out to his preheated car. He hadn’t even demanded the jackets back once they pulled up in front of WE, just said to “return them whenever” and “be more careful” before he had peeled away from the curb.

The whole thing had thoroughly confused Tim, but, surprisingly, he hadn’t felt the need to question it. Instead, he had returned the clothes and jackets, freshly laundered and neatly folded along with a thank you note and some notes on a case they’d both been pursuing from separate angles for a while to that same bed in Jason’s loft - he took special care to do it when Jason was away and to get in and out without triggering any alarms, just for shits and giggles.

Jason had tracked him down the next day to consult with him on the case notes and to complain about Tim sneaking in and out of his safehouses undetected. Tim had carefully suggested they work together on the case and also offered to give him some tips for updating his systems, Jason had accepted both offers, and then everything had taken off from there.

They’d cautiously worked together on a handful of cases since then and would occasionally trade notes on others. They had even sat down to eat chili dogs together one night. It all seemed too strange and suspiciously easy to Tim, but he didn’t look into it too deeply. Better this than being stabbed or shot or any manner of violent things Jason Todd had threatened to do to him in the time since he’d returned.

It helped, Tim figured, that they had gotten past Jason’s initial beef with Bruce, past the battle for the cowl, past Bruce’s death, past the trauma of Jason’s death and return, past the pit madness, and, ultimately, past Robin. They were both ex-Robins now, and both estranged from the Batfamily, to an extent. That had to play some role in Jason’s recent change in demeanor.

Tim snapped himself back to the present and finished stripping down. On the bed, Jason had already stripped down to his cargo pants and undershirt and curled up in the center of the bed.

“Pick a side and move over,” Tim commanded, tossing the last of his clothes into the hamper in his closet.

Jason made a grumbling sound from the bed, but scooted to one side and stole a pillow. Tim moved to the other side and slid under the covers. He turned onto his side so that they were back to back, him under the covers and Jason two feet away on top of them. They were silent for a few long minutes before Tim spoke in a hushed voice.

“So are you just here for the nap or did you also come to work on the Mob case?”

“Yes.”

“So I suppose you’re staying for dinner too?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Tim smirked into his pillow and pulled the comforter up around his ears. “Sure does.”

\---

Jason sagged under the weight of his equipment. It wasn’t any heavier than it usual - his leather jacket, his bat-emblazoned armor, his gun holsters, his belts, his gadgets and grapplers - but right then it felt like ten tons and he wanted nothing more than to shed everything, sink down, and sleep right there. Coming back after a week-long fight against a world-wide alien invasion tended to that to you.

He pushed himself to move forward, toward the fluffy bed he hoped still waited for him in the next room. He was lucky this place was still standing and not on the verge of collapsing or on fire or in rubble as many buildings in Gotham were after the heavy hits the city had taken in the attack.

As one of the largest cities on earth, Gotham had attracted a fair bit of attention from the invading forces, and most of Jason’s time had been spent trying to defend this sad concrete jungle from utter annihilation. Sometimes he had wondered why he even bothered, but then the frightened faces of the everyday people he’d seen as he helped evacuate large sections of the city - the people he’d seen help their neighbors, the adults he’d seen watch over children whether they were their own or not, the youths he’d seen help the elderly - reminded him that the city isn’t the place, it’s the people, and even Gotham City people - the real ones, not the crooks and the freaks and the corrupt officials - were just as human as any other people.

“Hello, bed,” Jason mumbled, as he shuffled into his bedroom, the welcome sight of his beloved bed with its rumpled covers laid out before him. He blearily scanned the rest of the room, confirming that all four walls of the room were intact and that the ceiling wouldn’t cave in on him as he slept.

“Hi, Jay.”

He made it five steps into his bedroom before it finally registered that his bed had _responded_ to him. He jumped back slightly and blinked rapidly. Now that he was staring right at it and was a fraction more awake than he was a moment before - thank you, adrenaline - Jason noticed his comforter seemed to be _breathing_ , and then it registered that the rumples to the comforter were roughly person-sized. In particular, roughly _Tim_ sized.

“Tiiiiiiiiiiimmmmmyyyyyyyyy.”

The comforter rustled and a foot appeared, but the younger man didn’t respond. A distant part of Jason was glad Tim had remembered to remove his boots before climbing in.

“Timmmmmyyyy, I wanna sleeeeeeep.”

“Mmmmmkaythengetin,” Tim mumbled from under the covers. Jay hobbled forward, carefully snagged a corner of the comforter, and peeled it up and off. Tim hissed as the cool air hit his skin and he scrunched his eyes up against the sudden brightness.

“Jaaaaaaaaaay, noooooooo.”

“What’re you doing?”

“Sleeping.”

“No, why are you doing it in _my_ bed. Go find your own,” Jason demanded, reaching under Tim and attempting to pry him up from the bed. Tim’s arms whipped out, grabbed for the edge of the mattress and locked on, the smaller man putting up a valiant fight against Jason’s childish attempts to shove him out of the bed.

“Nooooooo, all my beds are toast.”

Jason pulled back and sighed. “You mean all your safehouses got smashed?”

“Mmhmm. Smashed. Fire. C'mpr'mised.”

“Then go to the Manor. If nothing else, the Cave has plenty of cots for sure.”

Tim made a disgusted sound and reached a hand out blindly for the comforter. Jason made a game of moving the edge just out of Tim’s reach until he finally gave up and let his hand flop back limply onto the mattress.

“B is a stupidhead and I don’ wanna sleep on any cot,” Tim whined. “This bed closer. And comfier.”

“This bed _mine_ , so get out of it so I can sleep,” Jason ordered firmly.

“No, ’s big enough for botha’ us. We’ll share. Tha’s what we do, right? Share our beds wit’ each othaaaaaah,” Tim explained sleepily, jaw cracking in an enormous yawn at the end.

Jason scrubbed his hands through his grimy, dusty hair and sighed once again, considering his options. He stared at his replacement as his mind slowly churned, and he couldn’t help a small smile as he studied the younger man. In this whole time, Tim hadn’t opened his eyes once. Either he was just that tired, or they’d finally reached the point at which Tim was no longer paranoid that Jason might stab him randomly at any second.

He resisted the urge to reach a hand out and ruffle the dark, fluffy strands of Tim’s hair or run the back of his hand down the fine line of his jaw. He never would have admitted it before, but little Timmy was actually pretty cute, if you were into that sort of thing. He caught himself staring at Tim’s dusty-pink lips and shook himself out of idle thoughts of whether they’d be as soft or smooth as they looked; part of him wanted run the pad of his thumb across the bottom one, but another part wanted to suck the top one between his own.

He shook his head vigorously and chuckled at his own rambling thoughts. He must be pretty tired if he was thinking about little Timmy Drake in _that_ way. He scrubbed his hands through his hair one last time then shrugged and gave in. After all, who could argue with the adorable logic of a sleep-deprived Timmy?

“Okay, we’ll share,” Jason agreed. He shrugged off his jacket, shucked of his boots, pants, and holsters and kicked all of it off to the side. He’d worry about the rest later. “Budge up, Babybird, so I can get in.”

Tim moaned. “Nnnnoooo, not babybird.”

“You have two seconds before I lay on you.”

Tim grumbled a bit more but slowly wriggled himself over to one side of the bed. Jason sank down onto the mattress gratefully, immediately melting into the warm patch Tim had left behind. He pulled the comforter over them and tucked it in around them. Tim instinctively snuggled in as he reached over him to arrange the far corner, and Jason went along with it, curling around the smaller man in search of warmth.

After a few seconds of shifting and burrowing and pulling at the covers they finally found comfortable positions and settled in. Jason found himself nodding off almost immediately. He had almost drifted off entirely when he vaguely registered a voice in his ear.

“Wha?” Jason croaked.

“I said… ‘not ba'ybird'…” Tim mumbled, his voice so slow and hazy he might have been talking in his sleep.

“Yes y’ are. Y'r a little red robin, a fluffily li'l bird with your fluffy hair tha’ stands up in th’ mornin’ and y'r a baby and y'r a babe.”

“Not babe.”

“Yeeeah, y'r a total babe, my bird babe, my babebird.”

“Mmmmmnoooo, too sleepy. Argue later. Go sleep.”

“You sleep, Babybird.”

Tim groaned and made a clumsy attempt to elbow Jason in the ribs that mostly resulted in driving his arm under Jason’s body uncomfortably. Rather than be annoyed, Jason chuckled and rearranged them. He looped his arms around Tim, pulled him in to trap his arms between them, and tucked the younger man’s head under his own. Tim immediately quieted and melted easily into their collective warmth, his gentle breaths tickling Jason’s collarbone.

The last thought Jason had as they drifted off together was that it wasn’t all that bad, cuddling a “babybird” in his bed. Not bad at all.

\---

Tim blew out a breath and sagged down onto the bed, running both hands through his hair. At this point it was a waiting game, nothing to do but wait until the man tucked into his bed woke up again. He carefully smoothed out the blankets he had draped over Jason’s still form, mindful to keep his touch light so as not to aggravate the wounds stitched and bandaged underneath, and mused over the events of the past two hours.

The ordeal had begun with a bewildering alert from one of the safehouses at which he and Jay would often meet up to discuss cases or catch a nap if one or both of them were running on fumes. The napping part of it had started out as a joke between them after the time Tim had crashed at Jason’s place right after the invasion had ended. Since then, every other week or so, one of them would show up at whichever safehouse the other was currently occupying just to beg a nap, hang out, and eat the other’s food. These days, they were hanging out together at least twice a week, and Tim was actually starting to depend on those extra naps to keep him going throughout the week.

So when he had gotten the alert, he had wondered if maybe Jay had thought that he was there for some reason and just hadn’t thought to disable and reset the security? It was that or someone had legitimately broken into the place; all of the Bats knew to either call him or disable the security themselves upon entering, so it wouldn’t have been one of them. He had been particularly bewildered after he had pulled the security feed and saw that it was indeed Jason who had entered. Uncertain and a little concerned, Tim had peeled off from his patrol route and circled back to check, just in case.

Maybe Jason had info for him but had lost his comm? Or maybe he’d been hit with fear toxin or something similarly nasty and just homed in on the closest place to crash, just as Tim had months ago when he’d been hit by Freeze? Or maybe he had just really needed a nap?

Those possibilities had circled like impatient vultures in his head as he had cautiously entered the safehouse through the false wall Jason had carelessly left ajar. Upon seeing nothing immediately out of place, he had turned off the silent alarms and reset the system. He had then walked from room to room, seeking Jason out, until he had found him in the only bedroom.

At first glance it had appeared that Jason _had_ snuck in for a quick nap, stretched out on his stomach across the bed, hood nowhere to be seen, head buried in a pillow. The second thing Tim had noticed was that Jay hadn’t bothered to remove his boots before flopping across the bed. It was at the point that Tim had opened his mouth rouse his guest and gleefully rib him for his oversight that he had noticed the third thing, the spreading pool of blood just seeping out from under Jason.

Tim had instantly cried out and jumped forward, gingerly rolling the man onto his back. The stain hadn’t spread too far, but thinking back to when he’d first gotten the alert and by looking at the deep color and wet glisten of blood that could no longer be absorbed by the saturated material, Jason had clearly been bleeding profusely for a while.

Heart in his throat, Tim had jumped right into crisis mode, quickly stripping out of his gauntlets, pulling on the nitrile gloves he kept in one of his bandolier compartments, shaking Jason to gauge level of consciousness - completely non-responsive - and feeling for a pulse as he gauged Jason’s color and breathing. He had clearly lost a lot of blood, as confirmed by the paleness of his skin, his rapid, shallow breaths, his rapid, thready pulse, and the total loss of consciousness, but at least Tim had made it back while he had still had a pulse.

Tim had wasted no time in running into the gear room for his vigilante first aid kit, IV fluids and oxygen. He then quickly identified two gunshot wounds to the torso, in the lower right quadrant, and one superficial wound to the left shoulder. He had staunched the bleeding temporarily with sterile gauze and pressure bandages, then set Jay up on fluids and oxygen while he had made some calls out to Oracle and the Bats to call in some favors.

He had then cleaned and stitched the wounds in record time - Jay had been lucky the bullets hadn’t gone deep enough to rupture viscera or nick any major arteries, otherwise he would have been taking a trip to his least favorite cave in the world, _if_ he had survived long enough for Tim to call in the cavalry - and then he had gingerly shifted Jason over on the bed so he could strip the blankets and sheets from under him. The blood had soaked all the way through, as he’d thought - the mattress was a total loss - but it was the only bed Tim had, so he had done his best to soak up as much liquid as he could, then laid down a layer of towels before stretching clean sheets over the bed.

He had only just then finished tucking Jason back into the bed, setting him up on a unit of blood, cleaning up the bloodied sheets and towels, and putting away the first aid supplies. It had been two hours since he had first gotten the alert from his security app, but it had felt like two of the longest hours of his life.

He hadn’t realized until he’d seen the pool of blood and seen Jason’s pale, slack face how much he actually _cared_ for the man. It scared him, just how much he cared. It frightened him, just how much it had frightened him to find Jason bleeding out and unresponsive in his bed.

He shifted his attention back to the man lying in his bed in the present moment. He threaded his fingers into Jason’s and squeezed, his fingers mimicking the fear he felt squeeze his chest in that moment as he thought back on how close to total disaster they had come tonight. If he had been a few minutes slower or if the bullets had gone a little bit deeper or if they’d hit just a little higher. So many ‘what-ifs’ and it _terrified_ him that the mere act of considering those possibilities terrified him so much.

He’d felt fear for the safety of those he’d worked with before - for Bruce, for Dick, for Steph, for Bart, Kon, Cassie and the Titans, even for Damian, once - but he’d never felt fear like this before. He wasn’t sure what to make of it. Now that he was waiting for Jason to wake up, he wasn’t sure whether he was more nervous about what would happen when Jason woke up again - what he would say, what Jay might say, what would happen next - or at the possibility that Jason might never wake up again.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a soft sound from the bed. The significance of that sound pulled a relieved smile from him in spite of the churning feeling he felt in his stomach as he watched Jason begin to stir. He subtly shifted his grip around Jason’s hand, lightly feeling for a pulse and feeling a greater measure of relief from the strong, steady beat he felt gradually quicken under his fingertips. After a minute or so, Jason’s eyes blinked open once, twice, then stayed open, at which point his face immediately twisted in pain.

“Wha’ happ'n?” Jason groaned.

“I was hoping you could tell me that,” Tim responded smoothly. It took Jason a few tries to focus his gaze on him.

“I was… trackin’ down a weap'ns deal an'… turned bad… got caught in th’ crossfire as I tried t’ break it up… an’ then… I dunno,” Jason recalled woozily, frowning slightly. He pulled his hand from Tim’s and pressed it lightly to the wounds on his abdomen, hissing slightly.

“And then you somehow made it out here, broke into my apartment, took a little nap in my bed, and bled all over my sheets. Not to mention you forgot to take your boots off first,” Tim finished, keeping his tone light and teasing.

Jason huffed a laugh, then grimaced and pressed his hand harder against the wounds. “Shit, man… don’ make me laugh. Hurts.” Tim rose smoothly and retrieved two syringes from the dresser and rounded the other side of the bed to fiddle with the IVs. “Sorry about the sheets, though. And the boots, of course,” Jason finished, shooting him a wink that was nearly indistinguishable from a wince.

“Don’t worry about it,” Tim assured him, patting the hand just below the IV sites patronizingly, “I mean, you forgave me that one time with Freeze, so I’m sure I can give you this one.”

“H-how generous of you,” Jason choked out, clearly trying his best not to laugh.

“I’ve got some painkillers and antibiotics here for you, if you want them. No allergies, right?” Tim asked, waving the syringes. Jason nodded vigorously to each, so Tim carefully uncapped and injected them into the port he’d placed with one IV catheter for this express purpose. “I would have given you the painkiller sooner, but I wanted to make sure you’d wake up first.”

The tension visibly drained from Jason’s face and body within seconds of the painkiller going in. He let out a pleased sigh as he relaxed back onto the pillows Tim had propped him up upon. “No problem, man. I’m just really grateful you got me the good stuff. Oh, yeahhhh… that’s the stuffffffffff.” He practically melted into the pillows, a happy little puddle of high-as-a-kite Jason.

Tim snorted. “Yeah, I had to call in a few favors to get my hands on it, so you’re welcome.” He capped the empty syringes and set them aside. “Had to call in one for the blood too. You’re lucky I had the rest of this stuff on hand here or we would have been shit out of luck and you would have had to take a ride in your least favorite automobile in the city.”

“Hey, nah, I love the Batmobile - awesome wheels on the thing - I just can’t stand the jerk who drives it,” Jason explained drowsily, eyes slipping closed in spite of himself. “But thanks for not calling in big B or Dickie and the Demon Brat.”

“Well, it was Damian who brought us the morphine and blood, so…”

Jason’s eyes snapped open and he stared. “Wait, Damian did you a favor? Wait. He _owed_ you a favor? How even…? What did you do for the _demon_ for him to owe you a favor?”

Tim laughed, slowly rounded the bed, and sat down beside Jason once more. “Yeah, he owed me a favor, and part of the favor I did him involved not telling anyone why he owed me that favor, so, you know, I really like _not_ getting stabbed and thrown from high places, and rather _dislike_ having my grapple lines cut, so I’m gonna keep that one to myself.”

“That’s fair. But jeez…” Jason whistled. “To use a favor from the Demon Brat on me. Wow. I’m honored.”

Tim grinned. “No problem, man.” He was just about to stand and go in search of extra blankets when Jason’s hand unexpectedly shifted from his wounds down to where Tim’s hand rested on the bed, his chilled fingers wrapping around Tim’s slightly sweaty ones with a firm grip.

“But really, Tim, thank you,” Jason murmured seriously. “Thanks for catching the alarms I must have set off coming in here and a special thank you for _not_ taking your time coming back and checking on them - coming back and checking on me. Thanks for patching me up.” He paused, then smiled and squeezed Tim’s hand, instantly rekindling the heavy churning feeling in his stomach that had fallen to the wayside during their easy banter. “Thanks for sharing your beds, particularly this one, tonight, with me. Means a lot to me.”

Tim nodded and swallowed. “Y-yeah, no problem.” He shot up from the bed, yanking his hand from Jason’s abruptly. He fluttered for a moment before rambling out some words that might have conveyed a desire to find more blankets and get Jay some water, but probably came out too quickly to be understood, and then he fled the room. He took his time pulling the spare blankets from the main closet and filling a lidded cup - complete with straw - with water before he made his way back to the bedroom. He steeled himself outside the door, running what he planned to say over and over in his head.

“Here are more blankets and some water,” he began as he walked in. Jason accepted the water silently, taking a few small sips before setting it aside. Tim draped several of the blankets over him carefully, then stood back from the bed. He sucked in a deep breath.

“Jay, I-”

“So where’re you gonna sleep, Timbo? You got a couch in this place?”

“I uhhh… hadn’t thought about it actually,” he admitted. “No, I don’t. I’ll probably just make myself a pallet on the floor, to be honest. Plenty of blankets left.”

Jason shook his head. “No, don’t sleep on the floor, man. There’s plenty of room on the bed.”

Tim immediately began to protest, but Jason raised his voice to over him. “I’m serious, get yourself outta that suit and climb in. I can use all the extra warmth I can get right now; blood loss fucking sucks.”

Tim wavered. “I don’t want to accidentally elbow you in the middle of the night, or worse, kick you or something.”

Jason scoffed, then fiddled with his nasal cannula with a grimace. “Like that ever happens. You’re not a kicker, anyway. If anything you might snuggle me until my stitches pop, but believe me, I’ll wake you up _loooong_ before it gets to that, so stop stalling and get in. After all,” Jason explained with a loopy grin, “we’re not really sharing a bed if you’re not in here too.”

Tim rolled his eyes and sighed, but didn’t argue it further. He had wanted to keep a close eye on Jay tonight, anyway. He quickly shucked off the remaining pieces of his suit and carefully climbed into the right side of the bed - ideally he would have liked to have avoided Jason’s sore side, but with the IVs on the other side he didn’t really have a choice - purposefully giving the injured man wide clearance. Jason huffed and dragged him closer, pulling him nearly flush against his side.

Eventually they settled in together, the sound of Jason’s breaths growing slower and softer while the drip-drip of the IVs filled the silences in between. Before Jason could drop off completely and before Tim lost his nerve entirely, he sucked in another long breath and went for it.

“Jay?”

“Yeah?”

“You really scared me tonight.”

A long pause. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“I… I don’t know… I can't…” Tim struggled and he felt Jason shift beside him in confusion. “I’m not sure what I’d do if you had…”

“Died. Again,” Jason finished, his words reminiscent of the many jokes he often made about his death. There was no humor in his voice this time, only understanding.

“Yeah. I'd… It scares me, Jason. It scares me how much it scares me. I’d really hate it if something happened to you.”

“I’d really hate it if something happened to you, too,” Jason admitted softly.

Tim let the silence stretch, weighing his next words carefully on his tongue and in his heart before he whispered them to the ceiling. He wasn’t even sure Jason was awake anymore.

“Jay, I think I like you.”

The admission floated into the space above and around them and Tim felt an overwhelming sense of peace at having finally gotten the words past his lips, words that he felt were true down to the depths of his soul, a truth that had grown between them for months without him ever realizing it.

Jason wasn’t asleep. The response he gave without pause echoed in Tim’s head until sleep finally took him and then all the way through the night and on into the morning.

“I like you too, Babybird.”

\---

Jason gently closed the front door behind him. Tim had been sleeping when he left to run some errands a few hours ago, so with any luck, he was still resting.

A rustle and a cough from the next room told him there was no such luck. He sighed and strode into the warmly lit living room, fixing the sniffling person on the couch with an exasperated glare.

"Why are you on the couch, Tim? I thought I told you to take a nap."

The younger man turned his sickly pale face toward him and coughed into his hand. "I did take a nap. On the couch," Tim croaked. His eyes were red and watery and his nose had turned a bright pink color from all the wiping he'd been doing. He still sounded pretty stuffed up and, if Jason's ears weren't fooling him, there was a wet sound to some of those coughs. He sighed. Cold season had hit his babybird hard.

"Why, exactly?" Jason asked, setting down a gallon jug of distilled water on the floor beside the couch. He lifted Tim's feet and sat down, setting down the plastic bags he'd brought in onto Tim's lap and pulling Tim's feet onto his. "We didn't buy that beautifully soft bed so you could ruin your spine sleeping on the couch. What? Were you loathe to sleep in it while I wasn't here to share it with you?" Jason teased affectionately, gently rubbing the tops of Tim's feet.

"I needed to prop myself up," Tim explained. "Couldn't…" - he was interrupted by a series of coughs, and, jeez, those _were_ pretty wet. Jason rubbed his hands soothingly up and down Tim's shins as he tensed up, his tension causing the hacking fit to worsen. He struggled to suck in air between spasms.

"Easy, babe, relax. Ease up and let it do its thing. _Breathe_ , Babybird."

Tim glared at him with watering eyes. "Couldn't. Breathe. Lying. Down," he finally bit out. Jason reached over and wiped a stray tear that had leaked out from the corner of one eye.

"That's what pillows are for, babe. There are more in the hall closet. I'll pull down a few for you in a minute. For now, here," Jason reached into the plastic shopping bags and pulled cough syrup and a box of menthol pads for their little humidifier. "I got you more syrup, tissues, water for the humidifier, and the vapor pads you like."

"T'anks."

Jason sighed. "You sound like a frog someone ran over with a truck-"

"Frogger?"

"-so for the love of Batman, go get some rest, Babybird, before I have to drag you out to Alfred."

Tim grumbled under his breath, shooting him little glares after every couple of words, but pulled his feet out of Jason's lap, fished the tissues out of the bag, then slipped off the couch and shuffled toward the bedroom. Jason scooped up the other supplies and followed, resisting the urge to hover as Tim swayed on his feet. He paused at the hall closet and pulled out several pillows of varying firmness before following Tim through the door.

Tim stood, motionless, four feet into the room, staring blankly at the unmade bed and clutching the box of tissues to his chest absently. It was almost adorable if you could ignore the glassy quality to his eyes and the extreme pallor of his skin.

"Okay, space-cadet, move your butt into bed while I'll set you up with some extra pillows."

Tim threw the box of tissues into the sea of rumpled blankets and slowly crawled into bed. "Did you also pick up that info for the human trafficking case?" he asked casually.

"I did, but you still owe me at least five uninterrupted hours of sleep before I let you work on that again. You sleeping, that is," Jason replied distractedly as he carefully built a ramp of pillows across the top of their bed. He built it across the entire bed because if Tim was going to sleep up on an angle tonight, then he might as well do it too, that way when Tim tried to roll on top of him in his sleep, he wouldn't roll off his ramp and wake up coughing.

"But, Jayyyyyyyy, I totally got nearly that much earlier when I took a nap on the couch," Tim whined pathetically, flopping face first into the unmade pillows on Jason's side of the bed. That too would have been adorable if he couldn't hear the wheezing quality to Tim's breathing as he lay flat. Jason frowned.

"Okay, well, first of all, you had only just fallen asleep in bed when I left, and you must have, at some point, moved yourself from the bed to the couch. Furthermore, I was only gone for three hours, so by that logic, no, definitely not," Jason informed him drily. Tim groaned and rolled onto his back, where his breathing only worsened. "Second, you 'slept' on the couch, so by definition, that 'sleep' doesn't count the same. That's like, half the time."

"No fair," Tim wheezed. Jason grabbed him by both wrists and pulled him upright, wincing when the sudden movement triggered a coughing fit.

"Third, get your butt over here and use the damn ramp I just built you before you drown in your own phlegm, smartie," Jason chided gently as he rubbed slow, gentle circles into Tim's back.

The fit gradually subsided, at which point Tim sagged limply into his side. "-kay. Gimme… a sec… catch… breath," he panted weakly.

Jason wrapped his arm around Tim and held him upright, pressing his lips into his hair and silently willing Tim's breathing to match his own.  "Sure thing," he whispered into Tim’s scalp, squeezing the arm he gripped gently in lieu of a hug.

They sat there quietly for a few long minutes until Tim's breathing evened out and the wheezing quieted. Tim moved first, gently peeling himself away from Jason's side. He crawled haltingly toward the nest of blankets on his side of the bed and Jason followed, lending a hand here or there to peel back blankets and fish out used tissues. A rueful thought occurred to him as Tim finally slid under the covers and settled into the pillows.

"You've spread your contagion across our entire bed," Jason commented wryly, flicking yet another soiled tissue toward the overflowing waste basket in the corner. "Across our entire apartment, actually. Your bodily fluids have probably covered forty percent of the hard surfaces and soaked into sixty percent of the porous ones. There is no way in hell I'm not catching whatever this is at some point."

"Hey. You don't have any room to complain about bodily fluids and soaking things, Mr. 'bleeds-out-into-my-best-matress-and-doesn't-even-call-me-to-tell-me-he's-there'," Tim protested croakily, letting his eyes slip closed.

"Jeez, it's been a year, and I've bought you _three_ mattresses since then. Are you ever going to let me live that down?"

"Never," Tim breathed, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Good to know," Jason deadpanned. He stood and began shuffling around the room, tidying up the comfortable space.

"You gonna patrol tonight?" Tim questioned faintly from the bed.

"Nah, the city will be fine without me for tonight. I'll go out again starting tomorrow," Jason replied as he refilled the humidifier with the distilled water.

"You comin' t' bed, then?"

"Yeah, lemme just finish tidying up."

Jason restarted the humidifier, shucked off his clothes, then snagged the empty glass off Tim's nightstand and wandered off to the kitchen to grab him more water. He returned and prodded Tim into swallowing down a dose of cough medicine and some water before he climbed into bed himself.

Jason scooted in carefully until his front was pressed up against Tim's side and he felt the younger man lean slightly into his warmth. Tim's hand snaked around under the covers until it found Jason's, then held on tight. Jason propped himself up on one elbow to lean over Tim and pressed a kiss to his forehead, a distant part of him pleased that Tim felt warm but not so warm as to be feverish.

Tim's lips twitched into a grin at the contact and his head lifted to chase Jason's lips as he withdrew. Jason chuckled and gave into the unspoken demand, meeting Tim's lips in a slow, sleepy kiss. When Tim finally let his head drop back onto the pillow, Jason moved his head down to rest on Tim's chest, careful not to lean his full weight into the smaller man. He listened carefully to the crackles in each exhalation and to the slow beat of the heart under his ear.

He wasn't too worried yet, all things considered, but he'd probably have to follow through on his threat to haul Tim off to Alfred soon. They couldn't risk a seemingly simple chest cold progressing into something much worse, particularly considering Tim's lack of spleen, and especially when it could be prevented with proper care. He withdrew his head and replaced it with his hand as he laid back onto the pillows. Tim hummed, sending vibrations through his hand.

"Bad?"

"Maybe bronchitis," Jason responded honestly.

Tim hummed again. "Guess I'll have to visit Leslie soon."

"Or Alfred."

Tim coughed weakly and shook his head on the pillow, eyes still closed. "Alfred'll make me stay at the manor so he can hover and worry."

"What's so bad about that?"

"Hypocrite. You'd never go back to the Manor to willingly stay for more than an hour, much the less overnight for days."

"Fair enough, but you're not me. And I thought you were still mad at Leslie about that thing with Steph."

"Damian is at the Manor-"

"Oh. True."

"-and I forgave Leslie for helping Steph fake her death ages ago."

"Leslie it is then. I'll take you over first thing in the morning."

"Mmmkay."

They lapsed into silence. Jason's awareness of anything besides the vibration of the heart beating under his hand or the hypnotizing rhythm of the chest rising and falling beside him fell away entirely. He would have fallen asleep immersed in those beautiful signs of life, if Tim had not spoken up suddenly, breaking the spell.

"So, can I work on that case tomorrow morning?"

"We'll talk about it. Go to sleep, Babybird."

Tim growled and twitched their joined hands. "Why do you still call me that? I'm not a baby Robin, not anymore."

"No, not anymore. But I love calling you that. You're my babe. My Robin. My baby bird."

Tim huffed, sounding unconvinced.

"It's all affection. I love calling you 'Babybird'." Jason paused, then squeezed their hands. "I love you, Babybird."

Tim snorted softly and returned the squeeze. "I love you too, Jay.

**Author's Note:**

> EDIT: Now with a short little sequel which you can read [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15735180/chapters/36769257)
> 
> This was my first time trying my hand at two of my favorite tropes, enemies-friends-to-lovers and the slow burn. (This wasn’t my first time writing bed sharing, but it’s definitely my favorite instance to date). I had a real blast writing this and I’d love to hear your thoughts on how I did. Comments, kudos, likes, and reblogs are all greatly appreciated!
> 
> My DCU tumblr sideblog is [redrobinfection](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/). Read, reblog and like this work on tumblr [here](http://redrobinfection.tumblr.com/post/172055051831/mi-cama-es-su-cama). Thanks for reading and be sure to check out everyone's JayTim Week 2018 fanfics in the ao3 collection and all the creative works at the [jaytimweek blog](http://jaytimweek.tumblr.com/) on tumblr!


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